


Print

by OldEmeraldEye



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: Metaphor, brainwashing of a sort, imprints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3794653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldEmeraldEye/pseuds/OldEmeraldEye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imprints and slaps, and clay is slowly molded into a finished product</p>
            </blockquote>





	Print

Slates never stay clean for long.

And in this age of rampart technology, the slates are hiding in the guise of records jumping from network to network in the not quiet realm of cyberspace everyone can get them and you can’t touch, no matter how hard you try.

Always show what was there before, no matter how hard you scrub at them.

 

Tabla rasa.

 

It’s slightly incredulous, what she’s being offered – threatened by – with a cup of tea. Only slightly, cause she’s been her three days and doesn’t know where she is , is starting to believe this is only a dream – a nightmare and she’ll wake up when they start carving her brain out.

 

A fresh start.

 

Doesn’t want to start over. She wants to finish this, show the world the Evil that is Rosum, she wants Leo, but most of all she wants to be clean again, and nothing the lady says is gonna give her that.

She didn’t deserve this.

If this was a story, she wouldn’t be here, in this windowless room, in the dragons den. In the stories, good always triumphs over evil.

Just taking her place in the world.

She wanted to do everything, didn’t she? For the first time, she thinks that maybe the bad stuff is included in her casual everything, and suddenly she doesn’t want it any more.

Actions have consequences, and love is weakness and Bennett didn’t deserve any of this either, and she dragged her into this and sacrifices have consequences too. She drinks the tea. Signs the page.

 

_Imprints_

Hookers, as her profession is known. She prefers the term escort. She’s providing a service, helping lonely people –

Genii are a select group. She’s the best of the lot, and they don’t know she exists. It’s all blue skies until her phone starts ringing and -

She’s not the type of schoolgirl who normally shoots at people, but Max is teaching her a lot of new things today. It’s like they’re made for each other -

An assassin who isn’t really out to kill anyone. Does that make her a no - sassin? I have a message from inside the Dollhouse -

Because nothing is ever as it seems, Ms DeWitt, haven’t you figured that out by now?

Being an agent is more than a job. It’s a performance. And you can’t see what your partner’s problem is, its just bodies, and the look on his face is the most entertaining part of her day. A treatment sounds good too, now that it’s mentioned.

Spying on a mother, brother, sister - friend until they blur into the target and it’s just a job, after all, until -

 

_And slaps_

Betrayal. Should have seen that coming? She saw it. The door’s more of a challenge.

This whole world is sparkly paper over a decaying structure. She thought this job would be a life-changer. Changed her life alright. She’s gonna rethink her career choices, right after she saves Rayna’s ass.

She tries to be her best. Doctor Saunders helps her be her best. She’s doesn’t hesitate as she walks towards the office. Why would she?

 

Negotiations .

Fear? That’ll be the day. Hell would freeze over before a run of the mill transfer of goods so much as raised her heart rate.

On three, they’ll shoot. That’s the unspoken agreement. She’s seen enough movies with her brothers to know _that_ much.

Whole lot of things out there worse than waitresses.

Do you trust me, man who thinks an arrow stuck in his gut somehow makes everything alright?

 

Interrogations

Why didn’t he kill you too? She doesn’t understand kill. She’s doesn’t understand dead. She just wants to know why her friends won’t wake up. Were they not their best?

The Dollhouse has people everywhere. Why would someone be stupid enough to cross them? Who is this man, laughing in the back of a black van?

 

_And clay is slowly moulded_

 

Piece by piece, calcium from a cave roof, layer on layer, memory on memory, quotes and half heard voices, children and heavy ghosts and They make it so real why do they always make it so real -

 

_Into a finished product_

 

And she is every one and at the same time, no one. She’s an Echo of a thousand people who’ve never existed.

She’s Number One.


End file.
